Brainiac's Whore
by leev
Summary: Heed the MA rating! AU - Brainiac's thought control disk worked on Static. He is determined to take over the Earth, but the remnants of the Justice League and a few survivors are just as determined to stop him. Rated MA - Noncon, slash, character death
1. Chapter 1

This is filled with lots of angst, slash, non-con, and character death. Please don't read if any of this disturbs you.

This story is AU - Brainiac's thought control disk worked on Static. Brainiac has taken control of Dakota and is bent on conquering the world, but his plan is stymied by the remnants of the Justice League and a ragtag band of survivors.

I don't own Static Shock or the Justice League. I am torturing the characters strictly for my own enjoyment.

* * *

He put the finishing touches on his surprise for Richie. They had had a pretty rough time of it, especially their first few months together. A romantic evening would surely be welcome. 

The door opened and Richie entered the candlelit bedroom. He stopped in the doorway and stared silently at the silk sheets bespattered with rose petals.

"What's going on?"

He smiled at Richie's cautious question. The blonde boy had finally learned not to take things for granted.

"One year, Richie," he said. "One year to the day since we became as one." He popped the cork on the bottle of champagne and filled two glasses. He passed one to Richie. His fingers lingered over the boy's hand as Richie accepted the drink. He watched as Richie downed it in one gulp.

He refilled Richie's glass and sipped at his own cocktail. He motioned Richie further into the room then closed and locked the door. He did not wish to be disturbed tonight.

He could feel the tension in the room intensify when Richie heard the lock slide home. He turned and smiled at his treasure. Richie was drifting around the room sipping the champagne and stopping occasionally to touch the trinkets of their life together. When Richie faced him across the king-size bed, there were tear tracks on his face.

"What do you want me to do?" Richie's whisper was so soft that only his superior hearing allowed him to hear the question.

"Strip." He put his glass on the nightstand and rested his body on his elbows as he lounged on the bed. He lowered his head slightly and allowed his dreadlocks to fall into his face, thus masking his eyes. He loved to watch Richie at all times, but he especially loved watching the clothing fall from that beautiful body.

It was spring and Richie was dressed for the weather - shorts and a t-shirt, no socks or shoes. It wouldn't have mattered if it were the dead of winter, however. The young man was only allowed clothing that showed his body to the best advantage, i.e., practically nothing.

The t-shirt was first. Richie knew what his watcher liked. The shirt was drawn slowly upward and gave ample time for observation of his flat stomach and smooth chest. Next came the shorts. Richie's lack of enthusiasm for the evening ahead became obvious.

The dark-skinned boy on the bed was disappointed that Richie wasn't excited. He had been ready for Richie for what seemed like hours.

"Lay down."

Richie complied. A light sheen of sweat was already forming on his body; the pale skin glowed in the flickering light.

He knew he was the center of Richie's attention as he stood and slipped out of his dress robe. He stood proudly nude in front of the blonde. He dipped his fingers in the small pot of oil, which had been warming on a heating pad. The liquid felt good as he anointed his body. He took his time rubbing the oil across his chest, down his stomach, and generously coated his erection.

He had decided that tonight he would be the gentle lover Richie occasionally dreamed about. That is, if Richie cooperated.

"Spread your legs."

He held his breath as he waited to see what Richie would do. Sometimes Richie would give in. Something would be triggered inside him - a memory, a long-forgotten desire - and he would lose himself in the feelings the darker male evoked within him.

But sometimes? Sometimes Richie would fight. It didn't happen often any more, but when he first insisted on this intimacy between them, he would have to hold Richie down and force his way inside. He never enjoyed hurting Richie, but he didn't want the fight to completely leave the boy, either.

The uncertainty fueled his desire.

Seconds passed. He could almost see Richie debating the pros and cons of a fight tonight. He was immensely pleased and maybe vaguely disappointed when Richie gave a deep sigh and opened himself to the other's slick, questing fingers.

It didn't take long before Richie's body was prepared to receive him. They had done this in one form or another nearly every day of the last year. He allowed nothing to distract him from the pleasure and comfort he found in Richie. Not the riots, not the bombs, not the plagues. Nothing. Nothing could ever keep him from these moments.

He believed had become quite skilled in the art of lovemaking. He knew every centimeter of Richie's body and had studied his own for many hours. He knew where to touch and how hard to press; he knew when to move slowly and when to pound away furiously. Tonight was a slow and easy night. He wanted this to last.

His knowledge served him well. He kept both Richie and himself on the edge for hours. Finally, finally, he changed tactics to bring them both off quickly. There was only one thing more he required.

"Look at me, Richie. I want to see you when I make you come."

Richie's eyes, normally a crystalline blue, were dark with equal parts passion and hate. He was close.

"Say my name, Richie. Scream it for everyone to hear." He stroked Richie in time with his thrusts. Any second now.

Richie gasped as he felt his orgasm approaching. He locked his eyes on the face that he knew still housed the soul of his best friend. His hero. The boy he loved enough to have died for. The boy he loved enough to live for. As the pleasure rushed through his body, he complied with the last order before his breath was stolen away. The name echoed in the room and down the corridors.

"Brainiac!"


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you everyone for your reviews. I started grad school last month and OMG I thought getting my BS was hard! Your patience as I juggle the stories with my schedule is truly appreciated.

**Warnings**: Slash and sad things, but not on-screen. Also, Hotstreak has a few choice words.

**Disclaimer** - I don't own anything here (and isn't that the truth!) except the naughty bits.

* * *

Hotstreak hated guard duty. It sucked, but anything was better than watching Brainiac torture Richie again. And it was torture, no matter what anyone else thought. They called the blonde boy 'Brainiac's Whore.' They were wrong about him. 

They didn't know Richie before the computer program came along. They didn't know that Virgil was Richie's best friend, so Richie couldn't really fight back without hurting his buddy. Besides, how was one kid supposed to fight off five members of the Justice League?

Hotstreak stomped his feet and rubbed his arms with his hands. _Goddamn but he hated the cold! And why the fuck was it twenty degrees in May?_ He could ask Superman, but Clark was being all pissy right now. _Jeez! You blow up one alien and suddenly you're a leper._

Hotstreak figured it would be in the nineties before noon tomorrow. The freaky temperature fluctuations were due to that fucking machine and its assault on the planet.

Brainiac.

Oh, how he hated that thing. In the beginning, he really didn't give a shit, not even when the virus wormed its way onto the Internet and from there into the various computer defense systems around the world. So what if a bunch of cities got nuked and some people died? It wasn't any of his business, except it did interrupt his porn flow.

He was a little concerned when the nerve agents were released; the chems never came near Dakota, so that fear passed. A bunch more people died. He didn't care.

He began to care when Dakota was blockaded because it was Brainiac's command center. The siege cut off the food and water supply not only to Brainiac's slaves but also to those free humans who hadn't gotten out of the city in time. The constant battles among the scavengers for food were worse than the original Dakota riots. Brainiac's retaliation stunned the planet.

He brought down the Watchtower.

No one could figure out how he had done it. Hotstreak knew that Superman and Wonder Woman had an idea, but they weren't sharing. They had escaped the destruction of the space station because they were in Dakota.

The people lost their faith in their heroes when the Watchtower fell.

Empty gazes now followed Brainiac's troops as food and medicine stores were raided all over the world. Hotstreak could understand the food; slaves had to eat. But why the medicine? If someone died, Brainiac could just slap a control disc on the nearest human and replace the missing worker.

He figured it out the first time he had seen Richie after the downing of the station. The blonde was being held possessively by Virgil, held tightly against the other boy's body. That was why Brainiac wanted the supplies. So that Richie would be taken care of.

Hotstreak watched from his favorite hidey-hole as Static Shock's powers guided the boys over a desolate Dakota. The Green Lantern had flown point, while the Martian Manhunter had been on the left and Hawkgirl on the right. The Batplane soared overhead, and the Flash could occasionally be seen on the ground below.

The Justice Leaguers were obviously under the power of Brainiac's control discs, as was Virgil. Richie, however, was not.

The othersresistance fighters took Richie's apparent freedom and favor with Brainiac as a sign that the boy was collaborating; that he was enjoying the computer's attentions. No matter how many times Hotstreak tried to convince them otherwise, they still believed Richie was a traitor to humanity.

Hotstreak shook himself from his reflective mood. He needed to stay alert. The cold was starting to get to him, but he couldn't light up and warm himself with his powers. It was too dangerous to do so at night; he might be seen even at this distance. He was a knownguerillafighter now, having taken part in numerous raids for supplies and to free slaves. He had also been personally responsible for capturing one of Brainiac's most powerful guardians. Hotstreak was actually kind of proud that he was number two on Brainiac's hit list, right after Superman.

He paced the rooftop for a few more minutes, his gaze focused on the distant outline of Brainiac's headquarters, the old Alva Industries. So intent was he on the far off building where Richie lay pinned under a panting, sweating Brainiac that he didn't notice the intruder until a hand grasped his shoulder and spun him around.

"Jesus! Diana! What are you doing out here?"

The black-haired warrior replied, "Looking for you. You were supposed to have control room duty tonight."

Hotstreak's expression grew as chilly as the evening air. "I couldn't watch it anymore. I got one of the newbies to trade."

Wonder Woman pulled her cloak closer to ward off the cold and gazed at the boy, no, the young man before her. She was aware of Hotstreak's distress at seeing what Brainiac was doing to Static and Gear. She didn't believe, however, that Hotstreak fully understood why he was so upset by Richie's particular pain and humiliation. Maybe someday he would have a chance to explore his feelings. Speaking of which…

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Her head titled upward to gaze at the stars twinkling down at them.

"They're also a long way off. We're not getting any help from out there."

"No. We're not." So much for easing into the conversation. She gripped Hotstreak's elbow and pulled him towards the roof exit. "There's a reason I came looking for you," she said. "He's awake."

"Seriously?"

Wonder Woman nodded. "He came to about an hour ago. With his information, we might be able to turn things around. We have to help ourselves, and we have to do it before it's too late."

Hotstreak's brows drew together in confusion. "What do you mean, 'too late'?"

Wonder Woman signaled to the young woman standing quietly behind them. "Tasha will finish the watch. Let's talk inside." She had things to tell him, things that those less experienced in the harsh realities of life should not have to hear just yet.

Hotstreak followed Diana into the supposedly abandoned building and down to the medical level in the basement. Before they arrived at the ICU where their newest arrival was recovering, she guided him into one of the empty lounges. She took a seat on one side of the table and motioned for him to sit down.

"Before Brainiac began his attacks, how many human beings lived on this planet?"

"A lot."

"Take a guess wise-ass."

"42." It was, after all, _the _answer.

"…"

A stern look was sent and received.

Hotstreak huffed and said, "I really don't know. I never thought about it."

"More than six and a half billion. The nukes didn't do too much damage to the populace, but the chemical weapons knocked us to our knees. Do you know how many people are still alive?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Hotstreak squirmed in his chair. He hated it when Diana got all morbid on him. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Wasn't somebody around here supposed to be all sunshiny and optimistic and shit? It sure wasn't going to be him.

"The survivors are starting to succumb to starvation and disease. Even depression is deadly; they just choose not to live any more. Not to mention that Brainiac is picking them off by the thousands every day. We don't have much time."

"Time for what?" He hated feeling stupid, but he just wasn't following Diana very well.

"Time to live."

A frustrated Hotstreak slammed his hands on the table, careful not to ignite it, and shouted, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Diana gave a heavy sigh. "Clark and I have run the calculations over and over again. It's always the same. At the rate people are dying and Brainiac is exterminating the survivors, humanity as a viable species will soon cease to exist."

Now _that _he understood.

"How soon is soon?"

"Ten months. Sixteen at the outside. If we can't stop Brainiac before then, _and_ if we can't get the survivors to a place of safety where they can heal, regroup, and rebuild, the human species will simply…die out."

"Fuck."

Diana allowed herself a small smile. Big Red certainly had a way with words.

"We do have a plan."

Hotstreak was thankful for the reprieve from the grim prediction. "This have anything to do with the Jolly Green Giant?"

"Yes. He told us something about Brainiac. I really think we've got a chance to end this before we're wiped out."

"So what's the plan?"

Hotstreak listened to Diana's scheme and added his own touches here and there. They discussed strategy for nearly an hour until both were satisfied. They would have to have everything ready to go at a moment's notice. One wrong move and the world's last hope for survival would disappear.

Guess now Clark wouldn't be nearly as angry that Hotstreak had almost flash-fried the Martian.


End file.
